


catching up to the sunrise

by pieandsouffle



Series: a song that is blue [1]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dysfunctional Family, Gen, Humor, Light Angst, Making Friends, No Idea, Role Reversal, actress!Azula, avatar AU, everything changed when the water tribes attacked, good fire nation, invader water tribe, light AANGST haha, no nuclear families here, non-graphic discussion of genocide, the best way to give her glory and attention, theatre family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-23
Updated: 2019-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:15:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21532777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pieandsouffle/pseuds/pieandsouffle
Summary: With the fate of the Nomads fresh in his mind, and the Water Empire quick on his tail, the journey to the Fire Nation is hazardous at its best, and perilous at its worst.
Series: a song that is blue [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1551874
Comments: 18
Kudos: 115





	catching up to the sunrise

**Author's Note:**

> I have absolutely no idea how to characterise anyone in the context of this AU oops

The Southern Air Temple was a full day and night’s flight behind him, and Aang was tired. Tired in which sense of the word? All of them. His head kept lolling onto his shoulder, and it was only Momo’s squeak-snoring that stopped him from falling completely asleep. His brain hurt from going round and round and round in circles trying to work out what had happened, why it happened, when it happened and _how _it could have happened, but his heart hurt the worst.

He really didn’t think it was possible for it to hurt so much. And he didn’t know if it would ever stop hurting. The sand gently squishing under his feet told him that he’d soon be able to sleep once they found a place to hide – a cave, maybe, hidden in the coastal cliffs – and maybe his brain wouldn’t be as tired as his body after a good sleep, but the way his heart felt –

Like it had been free-falling for a full thirty hours –

He wasn’t sure anything could ever stop that. Was it even _possible _for it stop feeling like that? The only way he could even _think _for that to happen was for the temple to _not _be empty of – of –

But that was never going to happen.

He was tired, and alone, and very, very sad.

It wasn’t quite sunrise, but the faint wash of red tinting the horizon to the east alerted Aang to the fact it now marked a full twenty-four hours since he left the temple (since he saw -- )

(Never mind.)

The sky was mostly still dark, but that darkness was fading too. The sky was an ashy, steadily paling blue. The cliffs were more distinct now against the light sand; he could see a cave burrowing into them. A place to stay.

He was in the Fire Nation, and he was very, very scared.

But he was too tired to put energy into being scared. So instead he rolled his shoulders, sighed as Momo took personal offense to this and scampered down from his shoulders and up into Appa’s saddle. “It’s okay, guys,” he said. “We’ll be safe here.”

Was that a lie? Maybe.

They were _barely _in the Fire Nation, truth be told. They’d crossed over into Fire Nation Waters hours and hours ago – or what had been considered Fire Nation waters a hundred years ago – but given what Aang had seen of the Southern Water Tribe (Empire, he reminded himself, _Empire_) and its people, he wouldn’t be surprised should all the seas be now considered their territory. They’d certainly made sure that the Southern Air Temple didn’t belong to the Nomads anymore. It didn’t belong to _anyone_. They hadn’t recovered the bodies of their own warriors, let alone given rites to those of the Air Nomads. Maybe they’d done the same to the Fire Nation. Maybe if he explored further north he’d find the same devastation.

Maybe there _wasn’t_ a Fire Nation anymore.

If a hundred years had passed, like the Water Empire princess had claimed, then Kuzon was dead. Bumi was dead. Maybe their kids were dead too, if the Water Empire had invaded the rest of the world like Princess Katara had said.

The Water Empire might be the only thing left in the world.

A lot could happen in a hundred years.

* * *

The cave didn’t go far in, and golden fingers of light woke him when they reached in through the cave and then slapped him in the face. He tried to ignore it, and go back to sleep, or have a good cry, but he found that even with his head hurting and his heart hurting worse, his stomach was much louder than either of them.

And wallowing on an empty stomach wasn’t fun anyway.

It must have been passed midday, he decided when he squinted out at the ocean and the sky. The sun was hanging a little over to the west, and the heat billowing off the white sand indicated it was a great day for a swim. Which was why it was strange that there was no one around.

Last he’d been to a beach in the Fire Nation was with Kuzon and his family. Fire Nation beaches were always the best, and so they were always swamped with families. The sand was the finest, the waves were the best, the sky was the bluest and the water was always that perfect temperature between pleasantly warm and deliciously cool. This beach was no exception. But the only lifeforms he could see were a few hexa-eels splashing in a tidepool, and Momo when he deigned to leave the cave.

_Water Empire, _he thought darkly. He never thought things darkly. He didn't like it.

There was no sign of a Water Empire warship on the horizon, so they clearly hadn’t caught up with him yet. Or, better still, they thought he’d gone to the Earth Kingdom and went completely the wrong way.

Or maybe this _was _Water Empire territory now, and Princess Katara just decided to let the colonists deal with him.

Perhaps it was best to find something to eat before he worried himself too much. Appa couldn’t fly if he didn’t have anything to eat, and he would attract attention if he left the cave. Aang would have to scout for food by himself, and hope the Empire wasn’t close behind.

* * *

At the top of the cliffs was a lush green rainforest, full of caterpillars Aang had to keep pulling off his sleeves. And in the lush green rainforest, he found a clearing.

It was occupied, of course. He heard voices even before he realised there was a clearing at all, and so the final few dozen metres he travelled in the air, airbending from tree branch to tree branch as quietly as he could manage. The crowded greenery opened up into a field – but it wasn’t really that, he could see now. It was the edge of the rainforest, and the clearing was really the top, unused tier of cascading staircase of moondew rice paddies. The lowest paddy sat at the base of a hill, and at the top of a hill –

A village. A town even. It looked big.

And it looked Fire Nation.

Just like the two people standing at the crest of moondew paddies.

They were standing a few metres apart, and wearing masks. One was blue, with great white wooden fangs poking from an angry mouth. The other was unmistakably a dragon; yellow flame-like horns protruded from the top of its head. A long scroll was unrolled on the grass between the two, but Aang couldn’t make out the writing on it. He’d never been very good at reading Agni Hitchi to begin with, and it was even harder from a distance.

The person in the dragon mask pointed a furious finger towards the figure in the blue one. “Wretched water spirit!” she shouted. “Now that I’ve escaped your curse and regained my true nature, you shall _pay _for your trickery!”

Oh. He leaned forward interestedly. He recognised the mask now; it was that of the Dragon Emperor from _Love Amongst the Dragons. _The production he’d seen had been put on by Kuzon’s school, but Kuzon had been too young to score a part. He hadn’t wanted one anyway. His older brother Ryuu had played the Dragon Emperor and (sorry Ryuu), this girl was much, much better than he was, and _very _convincing as the Emperor. Her voice roiled with righteous fury, and every inch of her body radiated the desire to fight.

There was a pause as the Dark Water Spirit craned their head towards the scroll and then, after apparently their lines, turned back to the Emperor. “Have you learned nothing from your time amongst the mortals?” he jeered. “By threatening me, you invite your own doom!” And then he stopped, and straightened. “And then Iwao waterbends at you, then – ”

The Dragon Emperor roared and sent a blast of blue fire at the Spirit. The Dark Spirit flattened himself to the ground and swung his legs in a wide circle. The fire billowed out into a spinning vortex and dissipated in the air. Aang could feel the heat of it even from his perch, and could smell half-cooked moondew rice.

_Firebenders_. So the Water Empire hadn’t gotten here after all!

“_What was that?!”_ shouted the Dark Spirit. 

The Emperor shrugged one shoulder. “Don’t get so mad,” she said smugly. “I’m just following the script.”

“They’re _ribbons_, not actual fire. If you firebend at me like that again I won’t help you rehearse! You really want to burn Iwao onstage?”

“If it gets rid of his horrible haircut, then yes,” said the Emperor carelessly.

“Oh, so you think Minako will be happy to play your Empress if you _burn _her brother in the final battle – ”

“Well, you know what? If you had just auditioned for the Dark Water Spirit then it wouldn’t be a problem, would it?”

“I don’t want to be in the play!”

“Who cares what you want? You’re _way _better than Iwao.”

“You said you’d burn every shirt I own if I messed up your chance to impress Minako – ”

“I said _pants, _Zuzu, and don’t talk about Minako to _me _– ”

The Dragon Emperor and the Dark Water Spirit were clearly no longer rehearsing. The Emperor was standing on the corner of what must have been a theatre scroll with tightly folded arms; the Spirit’s hands were by his sides in clenched fists, and their voices were getting louder and louder.

Aang’s eyes bounced from one to the other like he was watching an airball game.

“ – you can’t get away with behaving like that, people already think it’s nepotism that you got the part in the first place – ”

“It’s not nepotism! Bingwen’s just jealous I’ve more talent in my toenail than he has in his entire body – ”

“If you keep being a brat Mom _will _replace you – ”

“She would _never_, how _dare _you – ”

The best way to resolve an argument, Aang knew, was to interrupt it before it got too bad. Or to throw pies at both parties, to give them a common enemy, but it just so happened he was fresh out of pies, or any food at all, really. So he leapt down from his perch and landed lightly in the clearing as the Dark Spirit was saying _exactly _how unimpressed Minako was going to be, and –

It was almost unbelievable how quickly they reacted. The fire blasted towards him so quickly Aang barely had time to shriek in alarm and blow the flames away before they could roast him on the spot. In one blink the actors were in combat stances. The Emperor’s pointed fingers crackled with blue energy Aang didn’t think was _possible _to bend, and the Spirit clutched two fiery knives in his fists. But after a few seconds, they disappeared from the Spirit’s hands with a small puff of smoke.

“It’s just a kid, Azula,” he said.

The Emperor’s head moved fractionally, and then she too lowered her hands. The bluish energy was nowhere to be seen.

So they weren’t going to kill him, which was a huge step better than Princess Katara and her brother. And anyone who wasn’t going to kill him was potential friend material.

Aang gave them his friendliest beaming smile. “Flameo, my good hotpeople!”

The actors froze. The Spirit made a sound that might have been close to a laugh, but was really too nonplussed to be one. “What was that?” he managed instead.

“Flameo, my good hotpeople?” he tried again. This wasn’t the reaction he’d wanted even if it was significantly better than being burnt alive.

The Dark Spirit and the Dragon Emperor turned their heads to look at one another.

“Flameo?” Aang offered weakly.

“I think I’m having a stroke, Zuzu,” said the Emperor.

“Is that even possible? You’re fourteen.” The Spirit – Zuzu? – turned back to Aang and studied him.

“Hotma’am?”

The confusion was almost solid in the air. “ ... am _I _having a stroke?” The Spirit managed.

“It’s probably unlikely for _both _of us to have strokes simultaneously,” the Emperor decided. She turned back to Aang. “Are _you _having a stroke?”

“I don’t _think _so?”

“Then -- ?” The Spirit lifted his hands, and then lowered them again in some aborted, bewildered gesture. “What?”

“Flameo isn’t a greeting in the Fire Nation?”

Kuzon had said it was.

“No?”

“You don’t call people _Hotman _and _Hotma’am_?”

“Zuzu, oh my f – ”

“Definitely not.”

Apparently Kuzon had lied.

He got him. Got him a hundred years in the future.

Good for Kuzon.

* * *

It took some time for the Emperor to stop laughing and the Dark Spirit to stop standing there helplessly and hopelessly awkwardly, but in the end it seemed the Dark Spirit had a semi-limited store of awkwardness to use up and the Emperor need to stop to breathe.

“Sorry,” Aang said. “My friend told me that was how I talked to strangers in the Fire Nation and I thought he was serious – ”

“That,” the Emperor said with somewhat major levels of deep inhaling between words, “was the funniest thing I’ve ever heard, strange little boy.”

“I think it’s rude to call a random kid ‘strange little boy’,” the Spirit muttered.

“Well, I technically am! But my name is actually Aang. What’s yours?”

“Zuko,” said the Water Spirit, still sounding perplexed. “This is my sister Azula.”

“You should go introduce yourself to the magistrate,” said Azula. “’Flameo, my honourable hotmagistrate’.”

“Don’t do that,” Zuko advised, bending over to pick up the grimy, slightly charred theatre scroll.

“_Do _do that.”

“Uh ... I probably won’t do that.”

Azula took a step towards him, and Aang resisted the urge to take one back. He could feel the air temperature increase as she stepped closer, and the smell of ozone sizzled in the air. She seemed like the kind of person who would be intimidating without a scary dragon mask on, and _with _it ... well. “So you won’t see the magistrate?” she asked. It sounded like a threat.

“_Azula_,” Zuko hissed. He straightened, rolling the scroll up and tying the ends together with a piece of red string. There were flecks of grass and moondew fibres clinging to wet parchment.

“So ... you’re rehearsing for a play?” Aang asked, eager to move the conversation away from Kuzon’s prank with incredibly delayed gratification.

“Sort of,” allowed Zuko, at the same time as Azula proudly said, “Yes.”

There was a brief pause. Zuko picked some grass off the scroll and flicked it away. “Azula got cast in our town production of _Love Amongst the Dragons_,” he said eventually. “As the Dragon Emperor, obviously. I’m just helping her to learn her lines.”

“Oh. If it’s just practice, then why do you need your costumes?”

Azula scoffed. “_Costumes? _ This isn’t a _costume!_ Does this grimy tunic look good enough for an _emperor_? In the _actual _production I’ll be wearing _magnificent _robes.” She stretched out her arms as though they were wings. Most people would have looked quite stupid doing so in the simple tunic she was wearing, but the snarling mask and her general aura gave off a muted impression of pride and grandeur. “And a much better mask than this one. This is a _child’s _mask,” she added scornfully, and removed it. Her face beneath it was pale, with sharp features and the gold eyes of a firebender. And really, she wasn’t much older than she is.

“Does it really matter if it’s a child’s mask?” Aang asked. “I mean, you’re only just a teenager.”

He found out promptly that Azula could make a much scarier face than any dragon mask.

Zuko removed his mask too. He didn’t glare at Aang like Azula was, but the angry red scar that covered one eye made him look just as intimidating. He fixed his gaze upon Aang. It wasn’t a stern look at all – more confused than anything else – but it was hard for Aang to look back without his eyes automatically shifting to the scar. Zuko’s uneven eyes examined him from the top of tattooed head to the toes of his stained boots, and then narrowed.

“You’re not Fire Nation,” he decided. “But you’re not Water Empire or Earth Kingdom either.”

“I’m not,” Aang agreed, happy for an excuse to pull away from Zuko’s stare when he saw Azula’s back foot slide back on the wet grass into a sparring stance. “I’m an Air Nomad.”

Azula’s foot slipped.

* * *

The Hira’a theatre prop and costume hall was not a hall, but rather a cramped and restrictive space in the wings of the stage. It should by rights have been the workspace of the acting troupe’s directice , but she wasn’t even in there, instead spreading wet masks out across the stage as she repainted them. Aang hovered in the wings, feeling too claustrophobic to enter the tiny little costume room, too exposed on the stage with the directrice, her husband and toddler, and too curious about the masks and the visible town and Zuko’s rummaging through a drawer to make up his mind about where he wanted to stand. He ended up lightly hopping from foot to foot, gaze switching from the costumes to the masks and back again.

Azula was in the costume room too, spending her time well annoying her brother, but it was clear that wasn’t the only reason she was there. There were three gloriously decorated costumes hanging on the wall, and Azula was very obviously pretending to not admire the most spectacular one: presumably her own. She was right, back in the rice fields. It _was _a magnificent costume. Zuko wasn’t looking at anything nearly so nice. The piles of folded cloth he was pulling from the drawer weren’t dirty or old, exactly, but plain, in darkish colours that were hard to see in the half-lit room.

“I’m Aang,” he told the directrice with a bow. She looked kind and pretty, and her soft smile made her even more so. Her eyes traced the tattoos on his head, and she put down her paintbrush.

“Aang the airbender,” she said.

“That’s right!”

She nodded, and smiled again. “I’m Ursa; Zuko and Azula’s mother. But you’ve clearly already met them.”

She had first seen him arriving at the theatre quietly eating a papaya Zuko had given him, accompanied by him and his sister already in another incendiary argument.

“And where are you headed to, Aang?”

And wasn't _that _a question for the ages.

He was the Avatar. It was his responsibility to master all four elements and bring balance to the world. And the world was unbalanced. The Southern Air Temple was empty. The Water Tri – Empire was hunting him down for unknown and probably sinister purposes.

The next element in the cycle was water. He was supposed to learn it first. Could he learn another first? Should he?

_Would _he?

And _that _was a bigger question.

“I don’t know,” he said, realising he’d just been standing there silently for too long. “Maybe – I might go to the Western Air Temple.”

“That’s more than a month’s journey on foot,” Ursa noted. “And you look like you’ve come a long way already.”

“_And _like you haven’t eaten enough,” her husband interjected. “Have you eaten enough?”

To their credit, his Water Empire captors _had _given him food. It wasn’t _nice _food, some kind of horrible soupy liquid with salty congealed globs of some kind of vegetable, but it was food all the same. There were some wild cloudberries he’d foraged at the Air Temple, but they had been bruised from ... his outburst.

“I _have_ come a long way,” he admitted. “And I probably haven’t eaten enough. But Zuko gave me a papaya, which was nice.”

Zuko waved a distracted hand at the mention of his name, and Ursa beamed at him.

“Have you somewhere to stay, Aang?” she asked.

“Here? Sort of. I found a _really_ nice cave down by the beach, and I slept there last night ... well, this morning. And early afternoon, I guess,”

Ursa and her husband exchanged an indecipherable Look. “You wouldn’t prefer a bed?” she asked when she turned back. “We have a spare futon you’re more than welcome to – ”

“Why do you have tattoos?” Azula interrupted. Aang had almost forgotten she was there, uncharacteristically quiet as she basked in the glory of her costume. She brushed some invisible dust from its shoulder.

“All airbenders get tattoos when they master it.”

“When they _master _it?” she scoffed, and studied him for a few seconds. “How old are you?”

A hundred and twelve.

“Twelve, but I’ll be turning thirteen in – ”

“So you’re twelve,” she said bluntly.

“Well, yeah.”

She twisted her mouth to one side. “I’m definitely getting a tattoo,” she decided. “Zuko?”

He didn’t look away from the drawer, pulling from it a dark red pile of fabric. He unfolded it into a tunic, and held it up to the light. “Maybe. I don’t know.”

“Are you sure?” asked Ursa’s husband uncomfortably. “You know it’s permanent.”

“As permanent as getting half your face burned off, Ikem?”

“Stop using my scar to win arguments!”

“Children, I think we’re getting off-topic,” said Ursa desperately.

The toddler looked up from her fire-frog, interested in the conversation for the first time. “Can _I _have one?” she asked hopefully.

“No,” said Ikem with finality. He seemed vaguely stressed, like things were getting out of hand. Which they were, of course. Aang seemed to have accidentally started an argument, to make up for the one he interrupted earlier.

“When Kiyi’s old enough to make her own decisions she can do what she likes,” argued Azula. “And if she wants a tattoo, she can have one.”

Ikem turned to Zuko expectantly.

“Honestly, I agree with Azula.”

Kiyi clapped her hands. Ikem looked very betrayed.

“Not that she can get a tattoo _now, _obviously, but when she’s older she can decide for herself, right? As in independent human being?”

“I wanna tadoo like Zuko’s,” said Kiyi, covering her eye with one hand. She beamed at them. She got four horrified and one delighted look back.

“I have suddenly and inexplicably changed my mind,” Zuko muttered to Aang, and walked very quickly away from the theatre with a pile of clothes in his arms.

“I! Want! A tadoo!”

“Give Kiyi a tattoo!”

“No one is getting a tattoo – ”

Zuko darted back to take hold of Aang’s sleeve and pulled him away. Aang let him, slightly relieved. The sound of Ikem and Azula’s arguing followed them, Ursa’s attempts to negotiate a ceasefire, and Kiyi’s continuous excited demand for a tattoo.

“I’m sorry,” said Aang as they stopped beside an old and empty barn tucked away behind the theatre. “I didn’t mean to start an argument.”

Zuko shrugged. He seemed unworried. “Arguments happen every day. And more frequently than that, in this family.”

“But not always because an airbender told a kid she could have a tattoo.” It was true that in Air Nomad culture, kids looked forward to getting their mastery tattoos. Whenever he’d brought it up with Kuzon or Bumi, they’d looked at him a bit weirdly. Apparently tattoos were a taboo in some cultures – symbols of criminals, or the marks of slaves. It could be the same in Hira’a’s culture.

And it wasn’t like Aang even had a culture anymore.

“You didn’t, though. And it doesn’t really matter, we’d have found something to argue about anyway. Azula and Kiyi are having fun, even if Ikem and Mom aren’t. If it gets really bad they might have to talk to Grandpa Jinzuk, he can always sort them out.” There was a bit of a smirk on his face as he said that. “He’s the only one who can stop Azula and Kiyi when they team up.”

“Your sister would listen to you though, right?”

“Which one?”

“Kiyi.”

“Over Azula? Definitely.”

“So why don’t _you _just tell Kiyi she can’t have a tattoo?”

Zuko shrugged. He seemed to do that a lot. “They’re having fun,” he repeated.

Aang narrowed his eyes. That was _definitely _a smirk on his face.

“You’re an _enabler,_” he said, delighted.

The smirk vanished. “Of course I’m not. Now put these on.”

“What?”

Zuko held up the pile of clothes. “Put these on.”

Aang looked at them doubtfully. “They’re Fire Nation clothes,” he said.

“Uh, yeah? This is the Fire Nation. What’s the problem?”

Aang looked down. His Air Nomad tunic was a little grubby at the knees, and there were a few cloudberry stains from where he’d plunged his arms to fetch Momo out of the bush, but it otherwise seemed okay. “What’s wrong with my clothes?”

“They’re dirty, they smell, and it _screams _airbender.”

“I don’t smell!”

“I didn’t say _you _did,” said Zuko irritably, “I said your _clothes _do. When was the last time they got washed?”

He thought hard. His clothes technically got washed when he first was submerged during the storm, and then again when the Water Empire princess doused him and tried to impale him on those ice spikes, and then when it rained on the way to the Air Temple, and also when he went into the Avatar state and all that snow got –

“Nope. Stop. I don’t need to know. You’ve been thinking for too long. They’re disgusting and need to be washed.” Aang stumbled back as Zuko shoved the bundle of clothes into his arms. They were almost the same as what Zuko was wearing, and very different from what he’d seen Kuzon wear, but all the same familiar warm tones. Reds, oranges, yellows. They were less intricate, more practical than Kuzon’s had been. The costumes hanging up in Ursa’s theatre were much closer to what he was used to seeing, but he had the feeling that that style of clothing was obsolete now: simply a costume.

He looked again at his tunic. “I think they’re clean enough?”

“Aang. Trust me. If you’re a twelve-year-old boy and you think your clothes are ‘clean enough,” he said, fingers making air quotes around ‘clean enough’, “_they’re definitely not._ You’re not putting one foot inside our house in that smelly tunic.”

“I’m going to your house?”

Zuko gave him a weird look. “Think my mom’s gonna let you sleep in a _cave_? Yeah, you’re staying with us. You’ll get your gross clothes back when they’re clean.”

“They’re not gross – ”

Zuko reached out and pinched Aang’s shoulder.

“Hey!”

“Look at that. The fabric staying upright _by itself_. That means it’s dirty. And therefore _gross_.”

* * *

The Fire Nation clothing was very comfy, Aang had to admit, even if the comfiness was somewhat ruined by having to carry his old stuff which, he _reluctantly _had to admit, did actually smell a bit.

Zuko was very unsympathetic.

“We don’t want any more kids asking for tattoos,” he’d said darkly as he handed Aang a hat. It was a cap with gold embroidery along the edges. It looked a little more like a costume than any of the clothes he was wearing; a little scratchier and less worn. The new clothes he was wearing seemed a lot like what Zuko’s.

“Of course they’re mine,” he said when Aang asked. “From when I was little.”

“I’m not really little, though.”

Zuko drew a line from the top of Aang’s head to himself. It came up to a point just below his shoulder. “Littler.”

“Well, alright. Why were they at the theatre?”

Zuko made a nonchalant _uhuh_ noise. “Seemed a waste to throw them out. Some of the younger kids put on plays and need stuff. Remind me why we’re going to the beach again?”

They were at the top of cliffs now, and the sun was sinking into the mountains of the west. The ocean looked like it was alight below them.

“I brought a friend with me,” Aang replied after a few seconds of breathing in the view.

“Yeah?” Zuko kicked aside a rock, watched it bounce down the cliff-face. Aang wondered how they were going to get down. It was easy for him to spin a ball of air, but he didn’t see how Zuko could get down in a way that wasn’t falling.

“Yep! Two, actually. They’re in my cave.”

“Two friends.” Zuko paused. There was a strange expression on his face. “Airbenders?”

“Kind of.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well ... you’ll see.”

“Right.” Zuko took a step off the cliff.

Aang’s heart restarted when he realised there was a set of steep rocky stairs trailing down to the sand that he simply hadn’t seen earlier in the day.

“You really didn’t know this was here?” Zuko asked, bemused.

“I kind of ... airbended my way up.”

“Cool.”

They climbed down in silence for a few more minutes; Aang wondered what he should say to break it. But Zuko ended up doing it for him:

“Hey Aang?”

“Yeah?”

“I uh – I mean to ask earlier, but – anyway. Do you know what happened to the airbenders?”

Aang stopped.

_Snow, and cloudberries, and bones._

“Yeah,” he managed, and started moving again.

“Then – ” Zuko’s voice was very soft. “Where are your parents? Grandparents? How did you all survive?”

“They didn’t.”

And there must have been something in his voice that told Zuko he was upset, because Zuko didn’t get frustrated like he expected him to.

“Then what happened?”

Aang’s feet sank into the sand. He sighed. “I don’t know! I was travelling over the sea, and there was a storm. The next thing I knew some Water Tribe – _Empire _princess had broken me out of a block of ice and tried to kill me. But there wasn’t a Water Empire when the storm happened! There wasn’t a war! The best I can understand is that I’ve been asleep for a _hundred _years!”

“A hundred years,” Zuko echoed.

Aang nodded, looking at his toes.

“No wonder your clothes smelled so bad.”

“_Hey!_”

“Sorry, sorry. The mood was just – ugh.” Zuko was fidgeting uncomfortable with his sleeve.

“I just – I don’t get why she tried to kill me. She didn’t even know me. I’m just a kid!”

The princess had been so nice when she’d first broken him out of the ice. She was pretty and kind and had been so patient with him.

And then she saw Appa, and things changed. Her smile disappeared and became a snarl, and the next thing he knew a fist of water had snatched him and plunged him back into the ocean.

“I think I know,” said Zuko.

“You do?” His heart clenched in his chest.

“The Water Empire declared war on the rest of the world about a hundred years ago, and the first place they attacked were the temples of the Air Nomads.”

Aang knew this. He’d seen firsthand what had been done. But it didn’t stop his stomach from lurching. “But we're _peaceful_.”

“I don’t think it mattered. It was all to do with the Avatar.”

Oh no.

Oh no no no no no –

“The last known Avatar was Avatar Roku, and he was from the Fire Nation. The element in the cycle after fire is air. By rights the Avatar after Roku should have been an Air Nomad, and the Water Empire knew this. The Avatar’s the only person powerful enough to stop them. So they went after the Nomads and – ”

He looked sharply at Aang.

“I know what they did,” he said quietly. “I saw at the Southern Air Temple.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“I know it’s not. But I’m sorry anyway.”

Aang looked at his feet. The sun had crept lower, and it was getting dark. Good. His eyes felt hot in that way they always did when he wanted to cry, and he didn’t want Zuko to see.

“After air is water. But the Avatar was never reborn as a waterbender. Which could have meant they hadn’t succeeded in ... forcing the torch to be passed on.” Aang saw Zuko look at him from the corner of his eyes. “Which means that there are two possibilities: the Avatar _was _reborn as a waterbender, and died before they could reveal their power. Which would make the new Avatar an earthbender. Or ... the old Avatar is still alive. That there’s an airbender still out there.”

Aang looked up abruptly. “Are you saying that they think _I’m _the Avatar?”

“Are you?” Zuko’s gaze was steady.

Aang was not ready for this discussion. He’d never been ready for this. It was easy to see the council here, serious faces peering mournfully out at him. Zuko’s expression wasn’t mournful – the scar just made him look angry – but it was as powerful as any master’s. His uneven eyes seemed to stare right through Aang’s eyes, through his mind and through to the back of his skull. Zuko was clever, he could tell. Perceptive.

“No,” he lied.

And he felt worse instantly, because it was clear that Zuko believed him.

* * *

Zuko’s home didn’t really have a barn or any space for Appa. The town either, really. Or as Zuko snapped after he got over the shock and/or delight of seeing Appa, “Hira’a doesn’t have bison daycares.” So Appa had settled himself down in the clear-ish space behind the house – it wasn’t really big enough for Appa to move around, but the flight from the Air Temple seemed to have been more taxing than usual, so he seemed content enough to just lie there, lowing happily.

Perhaps the result of being comatose for a hundred years. In any case, Kiyi solemnly feeding him hay tiny handful by handful had to be nice for him.

On the inside of the house, Aang was finding he was quite happy too. Once he’d stepped inside (“Take your shoes off,” Zuko had ordered, "don't track a hundred-year-old mud in here -- "), Kiyi had taken his hand in her sticky toddler hand and dragged him off to a tidy room with a low, kneeling desk and shelves of scrolls. There was a spare futon laid out in the corner, with some blankets neatly folded at its foot. He poked the pillow with a curious finger. It instantly filled out again when he removed it.

“You sleep here,” Kiyi ordered.

“I will.”

Nodding, she toddled back out. Slightly confused but not unhappy, Aang followed.

Zuko must have filled in the rest of the family in the minute and a half Aang was with Kiyi, because while what happened to the airbenders was brought up, not once was the Avatar mentioned that night.

* * *

“Where do you think you might go?” Ursa asked after serving him his sixth bowl of rice.

It had been a few hours since she had asked him that question at the theatre, and he still didn't really have an answer. Even less of one, in fact. Zuko's talk with him -- even if Zuko hadn't outright _said _that every Air Nomad was dead -- had been illuminating.

“I’m not sure," he said, picking at the grains with his chopsticks. "I can’t go back to Southern Air Temple, that’s for sure. I assumed that the Western Temple ... well. ”

Ursa grimaced, and that was as much a confirmation as anything.

“I’m sorry, Aang.”

“That's okay." It really wasn't. "What about the other temples? Are they -- the same way?”

She shook her head. “I wouldn’t know, Aang. I’ve never left the Fire Nation. You’d be better off asking around Capital City. We're just one small village. We don't know a lot about the goings on in the army and in the rest of the world." Something about this didn't ring true, but Ursa's face was perfectly serious, and Aang wasn't about to question her when she was feeding him her own food and giving him a place to sleep under her own roof. "The best thing to do would be to speak with the Fire Lord."

Ikem bit down on a chopstick unexpectedly, and spat out splinters.

“The Fire Lord? You mean just … go up and talk to him? I can do that?”"

"That's right. He'll be able to tell you all there is to be known. And he _will _tell you." She leaned towards him. "You'd be very safe in Capital City, Aang."

She was telling the truth.

Azula laughed coldly. "Of course you would be. Capital City has the best defenses!"

"That's kind of the point," Zuko said.

“Is it? Well. You wouldn't have to worry about the Fire Lord ever putting you in danger. He doesn't even put his own armies in danger. He’s gone soft."

“He’s not _soft_, Azula – ”

“Oh yeah?”

“_Yeah_.”

“You don’t reclaim land by relying entirely on defense and drinking _tea_,” said Azula. "You don't _avenge the fallen _by sitting and doing _nothing!_"

For the arguments he'd seen Azula involved in, she'd always had a glint in her eye like she was knowingly causing chaos for the sake of it, and relishing it. She was the cause of -- or at the very least, deeply involved in -- every argument he'd seen in this family. But that glimmer wasn't in her eyes. Her brows were low and her lips twisted. This was serious.

“That’s the Dragon Emperor talking,” Ikem said severely.

“And so what if it is?" she snapped. "I’m not sure if you’ve noticed but the only time we made _any _traction against the Water Empire was when we were _acting _and not just _reacting_ – ”

“That’s enough,” snapped Ursa.

"You know I'm right!"

"I said, _enough!"_

The silence that ballooned out in the room could be felt like a physical presence.

Zuko put down his chopsticks. "I think I'm going to take Kiyi outside to look at Appa," he announced. "Azula?"

Azula glowered into her rice bowl. "Okay." She didn't look at her mother as she picked Kiyi up from her cushion, and strode from the room without another word.

Zuko stacked Azula's bowl into his own, and gave his mother a meaningful look, before he too left.

Ursa pushed her bowl away and rested her head in her hands. "I'm sorry, Aang."

"It's alright," he said awkwardly.

"But it isn't, really."

He didn't really know how to respond to that, so he said something else instead.

"I'm not sure there's anything I can do. Or if I want to know anything more," he admitted. "I've been gone for a hundred years. I don't have any friends left."

Ursa looked up sharply. "You can stay here," she said.

"I don't want to put you out."

"You wouldn't be. You can stay as long as you need."

But what was it that he _did_ need?

What he needed was to learn the rest of the elements, he decided. The Avatar's duty was learn them all. He could decide what to do after that. But --

"Are you sure? I don't want to outstay my welcome."

"You wouldn't," Ursa repeated softly.

* * *

The next morning reports came of a Water Empire ship on the horizon.

Whatever Ursa said about being staying as long as he needed, Aang knew he needed to leave before anything could happen to this family.

His welcome had been outstayed.

**Author's Note:**

> Aaaagh been thinking about this AU for ages, and finally caught the bug that made me vomit out at least a part of it.
> 
> A few things: Yes, Zuko still has the scar. Yes, Iroh is Fire Lord. Yes, for some reason sixty percent of the royal family is living in a village and working in a theatre. How did this all happen? Where is Ozai? Details haven't yet been ironed out. 
> 
> No, I can't see the Ursa-Ikem-Zuko-Azula-Kiyi family ever being properly functional with the backstory I have for them. They're all on the same side, but their personalities and ideals grate too harshly against one another. And their family history is so messed up. It's sad, and I feel sad for them, but hopefully when more bits and pieces come they'll be able to understand each other properly.
> 
> The Southern Water Tribe is part of the Water Empire. Katara and Sokka are the children of the chief, and so therefore the princess and prince. The Southern Tribe has has been mostly left alone by the North, like in canon. Obviously the capture and death of the Avatar would elevate them in the eyes of the Empire.


End file.
